Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

Poem: In Your Hands

By: Arthur Heifetz   In your hands, the fuchsia, which had never lasted, survived the winter and bloomed again in spring. At the first sign of frost, you took them in and placed them in a warm spot by the…

Poem: The Jesus Door

By: Anne Britting Oleson Ornate, wrought iron: I gently screw the plates into the doorjamb, a clockwise turn of the wrist tightening the dividers of my world, replacing a door which ages ago some previous resident of this house felt…

Poem: Smoking Dynamite

By: Andrew J. Stone The game went like this: My brother and his friends would stand in a circle facing each other with a stick of dynamite in their mouths. They’d light the wick and whoever let it burn the…

What is Poetry?

By: Geoffrey Hoffman What is poetry? In what form should it be written? Ought it to be written at all, or is it nothing but escapist nonsense behind which we shy from reality? These are questions so old that it…

Poem: Zin’s 14th Street Demo

By: Kyle Hemmings We are glitter-puppies in a dance temple of extended happy hour truths. Some of us will die in our distressed jeans. Who is the closet lipster with too many au cell phone lives? So wasted in those buckled…

Poem: The Music Room

  By: Kyle Hemmings   At work, her father fights a losing war with paper men. Home, Zin imagines wind scorpion women without musical sense, exoskeletons in the morning, left-overs of love. Some girls are cursed with supernatural powers of hearing….

Poem: They Could Almost Breathe as One

By: Kyle Hemmings Her new step-mom keeps losing herself in supermarkets, especially in the aisle that sells kitty litter or retractable dog leashes. She loves little dogs & homeless cats & admits freely that she herself might be verging on extinction….

Poem: Dueling With The Snowman

By Richard King Perkins II He squats naked and glorious. He does not move. Intimidated, everything comes to him. Light, substance, power. The naïve, the curious, the envious. It’s true and utterly transparent. I despise his perfection. He is far more…

Poem: foretold

By: Christopher Mulrooney the humpbacked whales you shouted in my ear as we ran along the highway something about the humpbacked whales over and over again

Poem: Una Vida Sin Amor

By: Brenna Deane   The dark moon, a burnt out light bulb A translucent orb of molding cheese Cool light, sour life, quiet hum, dusty surface, bitter aroma Wide eyes absorb the gentle melody Armstrong’s first step into Space The…